


The sounds...I don't like them

by ThePinkFizz



Category: Jacksepticeye (YouTuber RPF), Markiplier (Youtuber RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Because I can, M/M, Pointless fluff, characters with colds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 20:56:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7479720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThePinkFizz/pseuds/ThePinkFizz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack is staying with Mark at his apartment in Los Angeles to work on a charity live stream when a wrench gets thrown into their plans for having fun. With no one else around, Jack takes it upon himself to nurse Mark back to health.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The sounds...I don't like them

**Author's Note:**

> G'day! This is just a cute little fluffy ficlet that I thought would be fun to write. It's obviously RPF (real person fiction) so I in no way intend for this story to be offensive to either of these lovely gentlemen. It's just plotless fluff that I wrote based off their friendship, so I'm not implying anything. How you'd like to interpret this story is up to you. But anyway, enough of me rambling, on with the fic!

Jack was staying with Mark in L.A. while they finished a charity live stream. He was standing in the kitchen helping himself to the contents of his friend's refrigerator, in hopes of scrounging up some lunch. There was a loud sneeze from down the hall accompanied by a sickly thud. Jack cringed, his shoulders hiking up under his ears.

_ "Mark?" _

He called, his accent shoving the "r" up into his nose. There was a long, silent pause. Jack pursed his lips, abandoning his sandwich as he strides towards the source of the sound. A snarfalling, gurgling noise erupted from behind the door to Mark's recording room. Jack raised a suspicious eyebrow but put on a brave face as he swung the door open. Sitting in a decrepit state on the floor a few inches from his chair was a very haphazard looking Mark. His hair was tousled and sticking up every which way, his black frames were knocked askew and he wore the most pitiful pout across his lips.

_ "Jaaaaack," _

he whined, flopping his arms like a fledgling. Jack sighed, defeated. He couldn't help but admit that the American looked nothing short of adorable and approached him to help him up. But when Mark let out a hefty sneeze, Jack quickly retreated. Mark looked at him with enormous puppy dog eyes.

"I think you're sick,"

Jack started, pulling the red-haired man up from the floor by his armpits. Mark batted him away like a child,

"'m not sick!"

He barked out a cough and nearly toppled over.

"That's it! Off to bed with ya!"

Jack put his foot down, giving the American a stern look.

_ "C'mon," _

Mark begged,

"I'm almost done editing this video." His voice was all distorted and snuffly.  _ "Pwease..." _

He gave the Irishman a pleading look, but Jack wasn't having any of it. "Nope,"

he shook his head, grabbing Mark by the sleeve,

"the daddy pants are goin' on. It's bedtime for you laddie."

"Not the  _Irish jokes_ ,"

Mark groaned. Jack couldn't help but laugh giddily as he walked the red-haired man to his bedroom. Even though Mark had put up a stink about the whole affair, he flopped ungracefully into the bed.

" _See?_ I knew ya was tired."

Jack gave his friend a half smile, pulling the comforter up and tucking the American in with a plethora of pepto-bismo colored Warfstaches and a little purple Bonnie he had given Mark personally a few Christmases ago as a joke. Mark sighed contentedly, snuggling up into the pillow. Jack smiled,

"ya big baby." He patted Mark's hip, "holler if ya need anything."

 

It couldn't have been more than a half an hour when Jack heard Mark screeching out his name. He sprang to his feet, whipping them off the coffee table and booking it to the sounds of distress.

"What's the matter?"

Mark was doubled over, dry heaving.

_ "Oh god," _

Jack thought, going into the bathroom and retuning with a glass of water. He sat on the edge of the bed, propping the American up, a hand on the small of his back. He raised the rim of the glass to the other's lips.

"Now drink it slowly."

Mark took big, gurgling sips and the Irishman yanked the glass away.

" _ Slowly _ I said! Not  _drown_ in it!"

Some spare water was dribbling down Mark's chin, getting caught in three day old stubble. He looked down at his lap like a child who had just gotten yelled at.

_ "Bleedin' Christ," _

Jack ran a sender hand through the shock of green hair he so proudly sported. He used the back of his arm to wipe the water off the other's face and handed him the glass.

_ "'M hot..." _

Mark moaned, looking unhappily at Jack. The Irishman snorted a bit and his friend gave him a hard look.

"That's not what I meant..."

Jack brushed a hand over Mark's blanketed leg.

"I know. Just teasin' ya."

A small smirk played up his lips as he pressed the back of his hand to the American's forehead. He frowned.

"You are kinda warm..."

He stood and went back into the bathroom, returning with a damp tea towel, draping it across the other's forehead, pushing stray red and black strands of hair away.

"I'm gonna go make ya something eat. I'll be back soon. Just rest." Mark rolled onto his side, clutching Bonnie to his chest. Jack shook his head, smiling.

 

"Hey sleepy head, look who I brought."

Jack opened the door a little bit, balancing the bowl of soup he had made as he let the golden retriever nose the door open.

"Chica!"

A tiny little smile of pure joy spread across Mark's tired, reddened face as the dog padded over to the bed, nosing at his open palm that he had dropped out from under the bedsheets.

"Ok, c'mon lassie, lemme in here."

Jack nudged the dog away with his knee and she trotted away. He sat on the edge of the bed, holding the bowl of soup in one hand and raising the spoon to Mark's lips with the other. He gave the American a spoonful of soup. And Mark unceremoniously spat it out in his face.

"Ouchie in my mouth!"

Jack rolled his eyes, using the inside collar of his shirt to wipe droplets of chicken noodle off his face.

"Now you're just being  _ridiculous_."

Mark pouted and the Irishman let out a huff, taking in a spoonful himself just to prove a point. His eyes bugged at the sensation of the scalding liquid swirling about. He gulped painfully.

"Point taken."

Jack swiped up another spoonful of broth and blew gently on the butter-yellow liquid this time before tipping the spoon into Mark's mouth. The American sneezed, shaking the whole bed. Some soup spilled over the lip of the bowl and splashed onto the floor. Jack cut off Mark's whimper.

"It's fine, don't worry."

He let out a high-pitched whistle and Chica came scrambling over, lapping up the broth from the wood floor.

 

Jack was exhausted by the time the sky went dark and the lights outside came on, glittering against the inky blackness like a hundred thousand diamonds. He had been occupied with making tea and toast, helping Mark up, helping him into bed, washing dishes, cleaning up mountains of tissues. The list went on and by the end of the night, he felt a little feverish himself. He sat down in one of the chairs, and he hadn't even realized that he had closed his eyes until a loud voice woke him.

"Top of the morning Jack!"

Mark's voice has regained some of its booming resonance and Jack opened his eyes looking bleakly at the American. He opened his mouth to say something when a loud sneeze shook him and he nearly tumbled out of the chair.

_ "Uh-oh." _

Mark patted his head and held out a box of tissues which Jack took and clutched to his chest.

"You're gonna need 'em."


End file.
